


Short, but Sweet

by happythedragon18



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Soulmates, but they will be eventually, for like one chapter so far, im tired its almost 1am, kind of, second story on here!!, that isnt the main focus, the be more chill tags are for one chapter so don't get too excited lmao, these are completely random stories just to let ya know, they arent connected at all, they arent in the story yet, those are characters i created btw, woohooo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-12 05:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11730891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happythedragon18/pseuds/happythedragon18
Summary: Mostly like the title says, the stories in this are going to be short! None of them are related to each other, but one has a plotline that I'm most likely going to continue at some point. That story hasn't been put on here yet though, so that isn't something to take into account (yet)!There's a book at home where a few sentences are given to you and you have to create a story out of it, and so that's where the ideas for pretty much all of these are coming from.





	1. Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic on here, finally! This is something I also took from my account on Fanfiction.net, so feel free to read more of it on that instead. These stories are mostly writing practice for me, but I'd like to believe that some of them are interesting enough to share to the public. So here we are! Enjoy!

There are always going to be stereotypes, no matter what anyone else tries to say. It's depressing and all kinds of messed up, but that's just the way it is. There are ways of discriminating against not only humans, but animals too. Stories are written- mostly children's books- to describe what is good and what is bad. We teach these things to the next generation, hoping that they'll turn out better than the one before them.

For example: fantasies. They can be addicting- after all, they're a temporary escape from reality- and that's why so many of us can be found endlessly reading them. We want to read about worlds that are so much more adventurous than ours, and so we devour the stories as if they were a silver platter of food just waiting to be eaten.

Fantasies are great and all, but they have hidden messages written within their depths. Most kids that read them would gloss over it without a second thought, but some are smart enough to know a moral theme when they see one. A book about the life of dragons and how they [would] interact with one another would be fascinating. These types of stories exist, but they can all be compared.

You could see two books that have dragons in them and see the same recurring theme in both of them: dragons are usually the enemy. They steal the princess, but not for very long, for her noble prince comes and saves her from the horrid beast. Those types of books just write off dragons as monsters without even knowing what else they can be. If dragons were to exist, they would have many other personality traits that would make them unique, just like humans.

So I've decided to write a fantasy of my own, where a dragon exists and is just simply misunderstood- like most of the books we see today do.

A long time ago, you see, a dragon lived by a neighbouring town. This town was relatively small, with about 3,000 people living in it. The dragon's home was by a creek, and it was even smaller. Well, small for a dragon, at least. The cave he lived in was so small that he didn't have very much room for food. Once he caught a meal, he would have to eat it on the spot so that it wouldn't take up much-needed space in his cave. It was cruel, but it was his way of living at this point.

The people in the town despised him. Whenever he would venture out of his cave- which wasn't very often, mind you- they would gather in the square and try to make him leave. Pitchforks and fire was usually involved in this struggle, and the dragon hated it. He knew that his appearance could scare people away- he wasn't exactly the most friendly looking- but they should know by now that he meant the townspeople no harm. If he _truly_ wanted to kill any of them, he could've done it by now.

It got old pretty quickly, needless to say. All of those puny humans just kept persisting in their quest to get rid of him. And with every try they made they failed. He still lived near the same town, and the residents still hated him. This way of life was hard on him, though. He wanted to show them that not all dragons were princess-stealers who disregarded everyone they saw only to later come back and eat them. He ate animals, sure, but he could never bring himself to consume a person.

This cycle continued until he was pushed to the breaking point. He was going on a simple hunt- nothing unusual there- when one of them decided to confront him in the forest. None of them had ever done something like this because the forest was his territory. They had all either been too scared- which was most likely- or too smart to do that. When he was in the town, he allowed them to do what they wanted because the land was theirs, but when one of them decided to wander too far off to where he lived? It was fair game.

He was curious to see what this human would do, though, so he backed down. For now.

The human started speaking. He wasn't that great with their language, but he could understand a few words. _Stop. Sorry. Don't hate._ _Wish they didn't._

He could only assume the best. Maybe he was an outcast too, and ventured here because he thought of dragons differently. Dragons had an unknown ability to share their thoughts, and so he did this with the stray human. It was all he could think of to get him to understand what he thought. Once he forged the connection, he poured all of his emotions out. His fear, his loneliness, his anger, everything. He hoped that the human could understand that he didn't want to hurt him, in fact, he wished to forge a bond of some degree.

After he had given the bond all he had, the human staggered backward. They immediately walked up to the dragon and tentatively put out their hand. He was motioning for the dragon to put his snout there: a symbol of trust. So he did. And he couldn't be any happier.

Someone understood him. He wouldn't be alone anymore. He poured new emotions through his new connection with the human. _Acceptance. Happiness. Gratitude._

This could be the start of something amazing.


	2. Love Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's been sitting in my Google Docs for a while, and so to make this work seem less barren and empty I'm uploading it here. Enjoy!

The threads of fate. A concept that, if I’m being perfectly honest, I still don’t completely understand. Even though I’ve lived my entire life thus far knowing which people will end up falling for whoever, I’ve never once stopped to look at mine. I know, at the least, that I have one, because everyone does. But I’ve never seen it, and I can’t say that it doesn’t bother me.

I’ve noticed that some people’s threads take longer to show up than others, because it takes a lot of time for someone’s subconscious to decide which person they’ll end up loving. After all, there are seven billion people on this Earth to choose from. But mine, well, it hasn’t once shown up. I’ve never seen a thread on my wrist, connecting me to someone I’ll eventually love. It constantly plagues my mind.

When you look at love from an outsider’s perspective, it’s strange. You start to notice different quirks that that couple has. And coming from someone who, as far as I know, is the only person able to see the threads of fate, it’s both interesting and sad. If someone doesn’t end up with who their thread leads to, you can see the discontent written all over their faces. You can tell that they’re missing something, and that they know it, but they don’t know what exactly it is that’s eating up at them from the inside.

I wish, sometimes, that I could just tell people about their threads and who they lead to, but I know, somewhere deep down, that I can’t. People wouldn’t take me seriously, and I guess I can’t blame them for that. The threads of fate are an incredibly confusing and crazy concept. But I hate it when I see someone on a date with the wrong person, and that I can’t do anything about it. I’m not a matchmaker, but I think it would make me happy knowing that I helped someone find who their thread leads to.

But in order to help other people find their matches, I suppose I have to find mine first.

I had gotten used to seeing nothing on my wrist every day. I would wake up only to immediately check my wrist. Subconciously, I knew that nothing would be there, but it couldn’t hurt to have a little hope. Today, I thought, was going to be just like those other days. I would wake only to be disappointed.

That didn’t happen, though.

I had woken up, checked my wrist like it was a daily routine, and. And, well, I actually saw something. I blinked, to check if I was still dreaming, because surely not. I had it mistaken for something else, probably. I rubbed at my eyes once more, but nothing. The small, faint trail was still on my wrist. Turns out, I hadn’t been dreaming. This, this was real. I finally had a soulmate.

I started sobbing. For 15 years, I had grown up thinking that I would never find love, that no one out there would want me at this point. But the universe had just proven me wrong, and for once, I couldn’t have been happier that it had.

I discovered something new that day, and hopefully, I would be able to meet the person on the end of my thread.


	3. Injured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty angsty compared to everything else I have, and like the chapter title, slight warning for blood and all that. It isn't really graphic, but if you don't like that kind of thing, don't read this chapter. Regardless of that- enjoy!

The soldiers were tense, waiting for something to happen- like it was a matter of when, not if. For our part, we did our best to steer clear of them, avoiding the main square where a group of protestors were shouting and just making a general fuss. Not a lot of us had time to deal with that- we were too busy fearing for our own lives. Our opponents were strong, and our main commander had made it clear that it was likely that we were going to lose this battle. It hurt, knowing that so many of our men had died, and most of it being for naught anyways.

None of us wanted to get the protestors directly involved in this- they were all civilians with families waiting for them at the end of the day- but protecting them proved to be extremely difficult. There was no way to pinpoint exactly where the enemy would fire, and the screaming soon became just another noise in the cacophony.

I had gotten used to the heat and intensity of battle already, but there was a fairly new recruit in our midst who hadn't had the time to adjust. His name was Manuel, but most of us called him Hawk because of his incredible scouting abilities. With every gunshot I could see him flinch and his eyes grow gradually wider. I pitied him, after all, he probably hadn't joined training to be thrown into real warfare. I could see how much he was shaking, despite him trying desperately- and failing- to hide it.

Manuel had been like the little brother I never had, and as time went on we only grew closer. Bonds like ours were dangerous in battles such as the one we were currently engaged in, but neither of us could bring ourselves to point it out. It was our coping mechanism, and it was nice to have someone to fall back on sometimes.

Just by the way he held himself alone, I could tell that he wanted to go home right now, and how I wished that I could give that to him. I wanted him to come out of this alive, but to do that I needed him to man up and focus a little bit.

"Hey!" I yelled to get his attention. It worked, because I saw him slowly turn around to face me.

"Yeah?" His voice was unnaturally hoarse- he needed water.

"I know you're scared- hell, I've thought about just up and running a few times myself- but you gotta stay in it. You wanna go home, right?"

"Y-yessir. Very much." He had tears in his eyes.

"Do this for them, then. Do it for me too because- dammit kid- I care about you too."

"O-okay!" He turned back to the enemy lines to start firing again, and I did the same.

For a while, everything seemed to be going alright. Manuel didn't look like he was on the verge of a panic attack anymore, so naturally that made me loosen up a bit in turn. Of course, that was the moment that everything went to shit.

Our opponents just had to come prepared with loads of ammo and sharpshooters in their midst, didn't they? As I started aiming my gun to fire again, I noticed a stray bullet come right into my line of fire. I didn't think it would hit me, but I assumed wrong. Eventually, it struck right below my chest, and I fell to the ground. A voice was screaming my name, and I could faintly make it out to be Manuel. Fuck. The kid didn't need more stress- my injury would push him to the edge.

"Oh my god, Glenn!!" I could practically hear the choked up tears in his voice, and by the time he reached me I felt like crying too.

"Glenn, I need. I need you to, to stay with m-me, please. Please, please, I don't, I don't know what I'll do if you, if you leave-" his sobs became too heavy for him to speak coherently. I wanted to say something to give him some kind of comfort, but my tongue felt heavy in my mouth.

"Can't." I whispered. He leaned down a little to hear me.

"It's gettin' harder to stay awake... I'll just sleep for a little bit..." I stopped. It was getting increasingly more difficult to keep my eyes open. Manuel wasn't having any of it, and despite how hard he was crying he managed to keep me awake a little longer by lightly slapping my cheeks.

"Come on! You can't, you can't just give up like that! We're, we're going home together, do you r-remember that?" Water started dropping on my face. He was still sobbing, with no signs of calming down any time soon.

"I'm, I'm going to g-get you to the medical field. I-I can't lose you."

After that, I blacked out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When I finally came to, I saw plain white everywhere. Must be in the medical field. The smell of disenfectant was practically inescapable, and suddenly I remembered how I had ended up here. Manuel. He may have gotten me out of there, but what about him?

"He's awake, and stable." An unfamiliar voice- which I hoped belonged to someone who knew where Manuel was. "The kid will want to see him- tell him Glenn's up."

I could only guess that they meant Manuel, but before I had the chance to think about it a flurry of limbs and colour was crying next to me. It was Manuel, thankfully. I didn't know what I would do if he had gotten himself killed trying to save me.

"They didn't know if they could, could get you to wake up, and I was s-so scared you wouldn't and you said you cared about me and I never got to say it back and-"

I shushed him. He was going to run out of air, rambling like that, and after all we had been through I wanted the kid to keep breathing.

"Relax, Hawk," He smiled at the nickname. "I'm here now, and for the foreseeable future, I won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

Manuel managed a small "Okay" in return before bursting into tears again. When he came in he grabbed ahold of my hand, and now he squeezed it even tighter. It hit me then how scared he had really been, and I felt bad. I wanted him to smile.

"C'mere," I said, and scooted over to pat the small space next to me. Manuel didn't hesitate to climb in the small hospital bed with me, and as soon as he did his sobs grew even louder. He had been holding this all in for so long, so I let him cry.

He latched on to my waist- being especially careful with my injury- and stayed there, shaking. I teared up a little at the sight of him, looking so small and vulnerable. God knows what I put him through. I wrapped my arms around him.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, I'm here now. I'm here to stay, okay?"

"..... okay."

He cried still for a while after that, but as I continued to try and calm him down by rubbing circles into his back, the sobbing stopped. He sniffled occasionally, but he was better now.

I started humming. It was a small, insignificant tune, but it helped both of us, I think. We were both emotionally exhausted- and in my case, physically exhausted as well.

I laid down, bringing Manuel with me, and closed my eyes. We were still both shaken up, and healing would take time, but we would be alright.


	4. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is another from my Fanfiction.net account, because as of right now I'm just taking stuff from there and transferring it to Ao3, lmao. I'll eventually post newer content and let you guys know that it is, in fact, newer content, but in the meantime enjoy some stories I wrote not too long ago!

The darkness was thick and suffocating, like a heavy blanket had been thrown on the world. He had to get over the wall, had to get across the border before they caught up to him and open-fired. He was a rebel, standing against the government's idea of reformation since it had first been proposed, and many wanted him dead for it.

He had grown quite used to being politically and socially shunned by now, but it was hard at first. He hadn't understood why the way he thought was generally frowned upon, and that made him upset. If he didn't know what he was doing wrong, how was he supposed to own up to his "mistakes?" He never got it, until years later when the way he thought began to put him in real danger. When he finally gathered the courage to tell his family about his views, they acted as if they accepted and understood where he was coming from. As if they sympathized with him. And when they first told him so, he drank up their reassuring words without a second thought. He had believed them, solely because they were his family. Of _course_ he would trust and listen to them, because if he couldn't, then what good was he?

It sickened him to think about them now, though.

As he grew up and matured, he realized that it was all just one big, ugly lie. They had never _truly_ understood why he thought the way he did, and his parents had even later told him that they didn't. They just wanted him to be normal, not the social outcast that would eventually be chased around by the government themselves.

He could understand why they resented him. For a really long time, he had thought exactly the way they had without any question. But over time, he dwelled on it more and more, and it just didn't make any sense to him. There were too many holes, too many other, more efficient ways to solve the problem. Once he thought the way he did, he just couldn't bring himself to go back to the old way. If it wasn't logical or proven, he couldn't believe it.

Running away from the officers, he thought that maybe he could be given a second chance if he went back home and lied. If he told them that, no, he didn't think that way anymore. That it was just a phase. That it was gone now, they had no reason to worry about him. But he couldn't. His family might've been ignorant, but they weren't stupid. They would figure it out over time that he was lying to them. He loved that they understood him so well, but it was also fairly inconvenient for him.

He ran faster, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up forever. Eventually, he would tire, and they would catch the rebel that stood out against their cause from the very beginning. He hated that he was so weak right now, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to continue running away from the government forever. Eventually, even if it wasn't now, they would get what they wanted.

He slumped against a wall and waited. They would probably be here any second, and he wouldn't have the energy to stop them. He whispered a silent apology to his family, even though they probably wouldn't miss _him_ , the abnormal son. Still, he was deeply filled with regret. He wished he could go back to his mother, tell her he appreciated her. Tell his father that he loved him and respected him, even if he could be harsh at times. Tell his sister that he loved her, and wanted to chase her in the backyard just _one more time._

He loved them all, even if they didn't love him.

A single tear escaped from his eye, and before he knew it, he was full-blown sobbing. All he wanted was to go home, back to where he had a family that loved him. But he couldn't anymore, he was a goner. The officers were most likely just around the corner.

He cried until he didn't have any tears left.

The last thing he saw was an ominous figure looming above him.


	5. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the one I was talking about in earlier chapters that would have a part two! I'm currently working on that, and because I'm a slow person it might be some time before that comes out- so just bear with me! Thanks again, and if you guys like this enough I'm going to consider making it a separate story, so. Enjoy!

The music drifted out of the club like a vibrating pulse. I could feel it in my bones. The night was alive with possibilty. I could even imagine myself going out onto the middle of the floor, all bold and such. Dancing by myself, with nothing but the blaring music and large crowd to keep me company. But I'm  _extremely_ shy about what little talents I have, and going out in the middle of the floor with people in a circle around me, focused on my  _every move_ was not an ideal prospect for an introvert like myself.

But it wasn't like I had many other options, seeing as the title of this event was a  _dance._ I didn't feel like being known as one of the kids who sat and ate food the entire time, and being dubbed as a loser who just sits in the bleachers on their phone didn't exactly seem appealing, either. I was in 10th grade, dammit, and I couldn't be so quiet forever. I had someone out there that I wanted to impress, and for the first time, I actually  _wanted_ someone to notice me.

It was a big step from wanting literally no one to  _ever_ call me out in 6-8th grade, so I suppose the transition from middle to high school really  _does_ have an effect on people. I never wanted to be one of the girls who had a new boyfriend almost every other week, I just wanted someone to like me for who I was. And it seemed that, in my "quest" to be loved by someone other than my family, I had developed a crush.

He was a decent guy. No one ever really put him on the spot, and he wasn't a jock- thank goodness. The sports kids in our school- or just in any school, really- are all jerks to the rest of us. They think that because they have a "big game" every week that they're allowed to slack off. And I absolutely  _despise_ the people with that mentality.

No, this boy was much better- and sweeter- than that. A couple of times I've been lucky enough to spot him in the hallways helping other kids who either don't know where their next class is supposed to be, or kids who've just spilled their belongings all over the floor and feel ashamed. That wasn't the  _only_ reason I fell for him, in case you were wondering. He also volunteers every other weekend, which I find to be pretty admirable. You don't really come across people who do that with such dedication anymore.

That's about it for the charity services, though, so. In case you thought he was gonna be, like, I don't know, the MOST PERFECT GUY EVER, he most definitely isn't. I haven't caught him being mean to anyone, but that doesn't mean he hasn't. And if he really,  _truly_ hasn't been extremely rude to someone (at the least), then oh well. We all have our flaws, they just show in different ways.

Now for a physical description. Come on, I know you girls are curious. Heck, even you few guys reading this wanna know, but I can't be too sure of that. Back to it, though. He's about 5'9 from what I can estimate, and for comparison, I'm 5'6. So a good height difference, I'd say. He's got brown hair, but with the absolute  _smallest_ flecks of auburn in it. You can only clearly see it in broad sunlight, so it isn't the most noticeable trait. He also has a wide span of freckles across his face, which I find  _adorable._ If a 16 year old can even be considered adorable, anyways.

His eyes are the thing I love most, though. They're a lovely shade of blue, but they also have a greenish tint. I like brown eyes, don't get me wrong, but blue-ish green eyes have always been strangely hot to me.

Ack, I'm getting a bit off track here. The dance, right. I forgot to mention that this particular dance was a masquerade, so everyone was wearing masks. I had no way to approach my crush and be completely sure that it was him. So I settled for going out on the dance floor and swaying my hips to the beat. It wasn't too hard of a dance move- something I'm quite proud to say that I've almost perfected, in fact- so there was no way I could possibly embarass myself. It was foolproof.

I was so lost in the rythmn and my own thoughts that I didn't notice anyone sneak up behind me. That is, until my hands were grabbed by a relatively tall guy and I was led straight the the place I wanted to  _avoid:_ the very center of the dancefloor. And to top it all off, I had no choice but to go along with him. If he really  _was_ my crush, then I didn't want completely and utterly rejecting him to be our first official meeting.

A slow song came on, and he took my arm and draped it across his neck. He put his hand on my waist, and I was grateful that his hand didn't "accidentally" slip any further down. Seemed he was a gentleman, which I couldn't complain about in the slightest. He led us both in a waltz, and I reluctantly followed. I hadn't really ever waltzed before, but something about the way he led us made me feel as if I had been doing this for years, not minutes.

We stayed like that for what felt like forever- just lost in the dance- and I was surprised to say that I was enjoying myself. Normally, I would be a bit pissed that some random dude walked up to me and decided it was okay for him to just grab me and pull me away, but this guy wasn't crossing any of my boundaries.

The song ended abruptly, and before I knew what was going on a large shout of: "Take off the masks!" was heard. I slowly took off my mask, but when my dancing partner took his off I was completely and utterly starstruck. It- It was  _him. Olly._ The guy I had fallen for hard, and didn't think had ever stopped to take a second look at me. I must've looked a bit  _too_ surprised though, because he began talking nervously.

"I- uh, I mean, if you didn't want me to do that then that's okay. I just- ah, thought you'd be alright with it. Sorry if I crossed a line, I really didn't mean to-"

"NO!" I yelled, and looking back, it was a little too loud for the situation. "I mean, um, what I was gonna say is that I really liked it. So thanks, and it's alright, you didn't cross any lines."

I laughed a little at the end, and Olly joined in. Soon enough, we were full-on cackling. It was so ridiculous, how nervous we both were. You could practically cut the tension in the air with a knife.

"So, I suppose that means you liked it? Like, I was good?"

And I laughed again. Here he was, being nervous about the way he danced, when I thought that the way he moved was  _stunning._

"Ohmygod, yes. Yes you were," I said, feeling braver than before. "You were amazing out there! Of course, I can hardly dance to save my life, so I don't have much skill in that area to compare it to."

He laughed at my comment. And I  _revelled_ in being the cause of that sound. I wanted him to laugh like that more, because it was a wonderful sound- to me, at least.

"Alright, then. I'll disregard that last part and take your oh-so-wise words as a compliment. But I was wondering, would you want to do that again? Like, not  _just_ dancing, but we could go see a movie- or hell, dance afterward, I don't know.."

"I think what you're trying to say is: "Gabby, would you maybe want to go out with me?" To which I would reply with: "Why yes, Olly, I would absolutely love that." And then we'd plan a date sometime soon and live happily ever after."

I was stepping up my flirting game. I don't think that I'd ever been this confident around anyone before, and I was proud of it. I genuinely liked this boy, and I wanted to go on lovely dates with him.

"Huh," he said. "Well that was easy. I've, uh, actually sort of liked you for a while, and I was afraid you wouldn't say yes and then I'd have to be all sad and alone-"

And I guess I got even more brave, because I decided to shut him up with a kiss.

It wasn't anything deep- and before you girls get curious, no, there was no tongue involved- just a peck. But it meant the  _world_ to me, and I hoped with all I had that Olly felt the same way. I moved apart from him, and we shared another, less awkward laugh together. Now we knew that we both had the same sentiments for one another, and I was ecstatic.

We exchanged phone numbers to plan a date later on, shared a small, fast kiss again, and parted ways.

Maybe I wouldn't regret going to this dance, after all. I got a date out of it, and I couldn't be any happier. 


	6. Oil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty small- maybe like 500 words at the most- but I hope you enjoy regardless!

At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we'd struck it rich and that we'd be able to retire and live in leisure. We actually started writing down all the ways we'd spend the money. Our first choice wassaving it; us four kids needed an education, and it costs too much to pay out of pocket for. We had come up with two other ways to spend our riches, the second being a nicer house. For as long as I could remember, our family had lived in a run-down house that was so old that the wallpaper had actually started to peel. We had never gotten an indoor toilet- we could never save  _enough_ , it seemed- so we all had to do our business in a man-made outhouse. We definitely needed to upgrade; in this day and age it was unlikely to find people living as we were. It was 1986, after all.

The little ones had put together a show to tell us how they would spend their money in their respective ways. They thought that the money would be split between us kids, meaning that we could do whatever we wanted with it. I suppose they were a little too young to understand that our family was a lot poorer than most folks in Boston and that we needed the money for other things.

At the time, it had filled us with an unimaginable amount of hope. I don't think that many can really grasp what I'm trying to say: basically, we  _really needed that money._ We didn't have a car- or a carraige, even- because neither of our parents could keep a steady job for more than a week. Two weeks, at most. Maybe you get it, and maybe you don't, but I'm sure you can imagine our feelings when we were told that what we had struck was not oil, but a spout of tar. At the most, it would sell for $20 total. You can  _imagine,_ but we had to live through it.

Everyone in the family reacted differently to the news. My mother fell into a depression, claiming that without that money, we were as good as gone and that we had nothing to live for anymore. I found out firsthand that she had started smoking again to dull the pain of the loss, and it made me angry sometimes. After all, she had specifically given up the habit because she had to set an example for me. Now we had the little ones, and this would be all they saw of her until we could figure out how to handle our financials correctly.

The rest of us sort of moped, you could say, until the following spring. A family from the South came up to Boston to see the neighbourhood sights, I suppose, and when they came around to our house they asked if it was up for sale. We looked at them as if they were crazy- heck, they  _were_  crazy, wanting to buy a house as old as this- but we didn't say no. They told us they would pay it off, but we said that whatever they had was fine. After all, we weren't ones to be begging for money.

So they gave us $200,000 for it.  _$200,000._ It was surreal. Our mom stopped by to see what all the fuss was about in our yard, but when she saw the cash she stopped talking. We were laughing, crying, shouting to the wind.  _We could get by with this._ We could buy another house, one that wasn't so old, and we could all live semi-normal lives.

A hope long forgotten had been ignited once again, and it shone in our eyes.


	7. Headphones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was an assignment for my English II class; we were all told to take any realistic fiction book and write a part of it from a different character's point of view. I chose the book version of Be More Chill- since I'm literal trash- and so this is the beginning of the book from Micheal's perspective! Enjoy!

I get to school at 8:45 A.M and sit down for, shockingly, class. I drove myself here, since I’m in my junior year along with my best friend, Jeremy Heere (the jokes and puns I’ve made about his last name are _endless_ ). Usually the only times I see him during the day are in the hallways between classes, and when we sit together at lunch. I look forward to it, because those are also the only times that I get to do something besides sit in class. And most of the time, I never _want_ to go to those classes anyway- they’re all boring. 

For now, though, I’m still stuck listening to whatever it is the teacher is talking about. I have my headphones in, and even though I’m not playing anything at that moment, they’re noise-cancelling headphones. They make it pretty hard to hear even when I’m  _ not  _ blasting music through them.

Our teacher is apparently explaining the guidelines for an upcoming project, and I already know that this is not going to go well. I hate school in general, but having to do something harder than homework is  _ never  _ any fun. I’m already tired from her speaking to us, but I try my best to listen anyway since I don’t want to fail.

Before I know it, however, she’s dismissing us, and it’s off to lunch I go. Score! Now I can keep my headphones in. When I’m in class teachers constantly remind me to take the big things off, but at lunch I can keep them in all I want. They’re also nice because no one tries to talk to me when I have them on, because even though I’m not listening to anything at the moment, everyone else thinks I am. It’s an unspoken rule to just let kids with headphones in go about their day, I think.

I find a place to sit- I always switch my spot around so that no one can really notice me- and I plop myself down somewhere and wait for Jeremy to come find me. I think he’s the only person who really knows how to find me, but that’s probably because we’ve been best friends for twelve years. I finally spot him in the lunch line, looking like a mixture of awkward and tired. Boy, can I relate to that. Once he gets his food, he makes his way over to where I’m sitting.

“What’s up?” He asks me, because he knows I’m not listening to anything. Unfortunately, I’m currently wolfing down a fish patty with cheese and chocolate milk, so I can’t really respond without sounding like a complete fool. I try anyways.

“Mmmmphh,” I say, and I’m trying really hard to finish what’s in my mouth so I can actually speak like a normal person. “‘Sup?”“Big problems,” he answers, and it’s pretty straightforward. I think I might have an idea on where this conversation is heading, but I don’t comment on it for fear that I might be wrong.

He pulls out a chocolate Shakespeare wrapped in foil, and now I’m sure of what he’s about to talk/complain to me about. Christine, the girl he’s been crushing on for literally the longest amount of time.

“I don’t think I can give this to Christine,” he says.

I’m still desperately shoving food into my mouth, so all I respond with is: “Mmmrrr, yuh.”

“Micheal.”

“Yuh.”

“You want to finish that?” And he says it with an amused grin. I would’ve smiled back if not for the unhealthy amount of food crammed into my mouth.

I try to anyway- because I’m determined  _ and  _ stupid, I guess- and bits of fish and cheese roll out my mouth.

“Crackhead,” he laughs. “People are going to see you.”

“Uh-nuh,” I  _ attempt  _ to say, and realize that there is STILL stuff in my mouth. I know I’m a slow eater, but maybe rushing this was a bad idea. I wash it down with milk and try again.

“Yeah, so ah: what’s with Christine? You chicken?”

I notice that he still hasn’t touched his food. “Yeah, well. It’s bad.”

“What’s bad? I totally know how it is. Did you say something dumb to her?” Jeremy is probably the most nervous person I know, and when he’s near Christine that only seems to get worse. Whenever he’s lamenting to me that’s usually what happens, and at this point it’s an automatic question for me to ask.

“Well, no, but people  _ think  _ I did. Which is basically the same thing.” Damn, I knew he was anxious about Christine and all, but not like,  _ this nervous. _

“No,” I say, and there’s orange ice cream in front of me that I can’t just  _ waste _ , so I start eating that too. “You doing something and people _ thinking  _ you did are actually really different.”

“Well, people  _ think  _ I gave her a letter.”

That leaves me with the  _ perfect  _ opportunity to lighten the mood a little! Not that it was all somber or whatever before, but still.

“ ‘I’ve got your letter!/You’ve got my song-’ “ And he  _ punches  _ me! For quoting one of the best bands of all time: Weezer. An absolute tragedy.

“Ow!” I complain.

“No Weezer, okay?”

For me, that’s an outrageous demand to make, but whatever. “I’ll try. So who  _ thinks  _ you wrote Christine a letter?”

“Jenna Roland.”  _ Now  _ I get why he’s kind of freaking out. I bet Jeremy thinks he’s being really subtle about it, but he’s not.

Jenna Roland is one of the more popular girls in our school, along with Chloe Valentine and Brooke Lohst. They kind of remind me of the musical Heathers, with the whole ‘popular girl clique’ cliche going on. A lot of guys I know would probably be stoked to date one of them- and some have dated them, I think. But all three of them share one thing in common: they can spread rumours about other people  _ fast.  _ It’s almost insane how they do it, but I don’t question it. I don’t really care for them anyway, so.

“She also said I was her ‘new stalker.’”

“You’re such a girl,” I whine, and I’m only half joking. Jeremy like to focus on the things that are insignificant but could potentially threaten his reputation. I get it, I really do, but he kind of needs to chill with it sometimes.

“So what? Does Christine care? That’s who’s important, right?” Look at me, being an awesome friend and all that junk!

“Yeah, she’s who’s important, but she’s not the only thing that matters in this whole… situation.” And I can tell he’s kind of upset about this whole thing because he keeps waving his hands all over the place while he talks. “It’s like, do I still give this to her or not? Will it seem too stalkerish?”

Time to give some even  _ better  _ advice. I’m probably an A+ friend, but that’s only my opinion. “Jeremy,” I start, and I proceed to give great advice while fixing some uneven buttons on my shirt. “That chocolate Shakespeare is genius. She’s gonna love chocolate, because everybody does, except for the weird people who only like chips. And she’s in a Shakespeare play with you, so obviously she’s gonna like Shakespeare.”

Boom. Case closed. Reassurance: given and received. My beyond stellar advice should’ve made Jeremy less anxious about this situation, right?

Wrong, apparently.

“But what if she thinks I’m an obsessed loser?” And I don’t have the heart to tell him that he kind of  _ is  _ obsessed. But I could never think that Jeremy was a loser.

“Dude,” I try again. “Think of how you’ll feel at home tonight, having missed your chance.”

Jeremy stops and fidgets for a second. “Oh yeah. Well duh, I’ll feel… like shit.”

“Right, so give it to her-”

“Yo, tall-ass, could you maybe sit or move from the garbage can?” Rich cut me off. He’s also one of the more well-known kids in the school, along with the trio that is Jenna, Chloe, and Brooke. I comply to his demand, because I really don’t feel like getting on his bad side today. Or ever, to be honest.

Jeremy and I must be staring at him, because Rich then goes: “What? Punks.”

And I didn't know it at the time, but that would be one of the last times I would speak to Jeremy during the school year.


	8. Hitchhiker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally just going through my Google Docs right now and scrounging up any small stories I can find to make this fic longer, so. Lmao. Thanks for sticking through the story this far though, and I hope you continue to enjoy! 
> 
> (This one also might have a part two/separate fic in the future, but that's only if I actually commit to it and remember lol)

It was a seemingly normal day. Carter, Mateo, Kizzy, and I were all going on one of our first road trips since Mateo got his permit. I’m pretty sure that Kizzy was fearing for her life the entire time- as she eloquently said so with some cussing mixed in- and overall, we were having a good time. Carter and Mateo were fooling around in the front seats while Kizzy and I were constantly laughing at their antics. Needless to say, we weren’t expecting to pull into the gas station to see a loner leaning against the tanks.

“Hey!” Carter expertly shouted at him. “Whatcha doing, all alone without a car like that?”

“Carter!” Kizzy hissed. “We don’t know this guy, what if he’s on some kinda- some kinda blacklist or something!?”

Kizzy was always the smarter one in our group. Back when me and Mateo were the only ones in our little posse, we used to see her on the playground looking as if she was lost in thought. It was weird, mostly because we had been in 4th grade at the time. Most of us hyperactive kids never would’ve stopped running around, yet here was a girl who didn’t look as if she was getting up anytime soon. Mateo had sprinted up to her and talked to her a mile a minute. She looked startled- scared even- and so I had decided to approach her as well to balance out the crazy that was Mat.

I introduced myself to her, and I guess that we’ve just been really close ever since. She’s always helped me on English homework- because  _ who even can understand that crap-  _ and in turn I helped her with Creative Writing. She always had trouble coming up with ways to phrase her sentences to give them a good effect.

Back to the present, though: this strange guy. He was leaning against a gas tank, and he looked as if he was waiting for something/one. He was about 5’4” from what I could guess, and he had the brightest blonde hair. It went down to the nape of his neck, and I thought I saw a hair band worked in there somewhere. He also sported a nice, tanned skin tone, and he pulled it off amazingly well. He didn’t look like he meant anyone any harm, but it was always good to be cautious. Carter didn’t seem to understand that, however, what with his shouting and all. We tried telling him to stop, but he didn’t want to listen, I guess.

“Hey!” he so expertly shouted again. “Do you need a ride? You look kinda lonely just sitting over there, so..”

We all stood, motionless. We all knew that Carter was fairly impulsive, but this was new even for him. This guy was a stranger, we couldn’t just offer him a ride! They always talk about how you should never accept an offer given to you by someone you don’t know/trust, yet here we were, offering our car- with us in it, of course. At this point I was pretty sure the new guy would say no- he didn’t exactly look as if he wanted anyone’s pity- but to our surprise he said yes. None of us really knew what to do after that, offering the ride was one thing, but actually going through with it? Just a little bit different.

Carter asked what his name was, and he responded with a quiet “James.” I, for one, think that Carter was being a bit  _ too  _ friendly with this guy. We had just met him, and we didn’t know whether he was friendly or not. Regardless, we all took note of the situation and went with it- for now, at least.

“So, um, why were you standing out there in the first place?” I decided to take the initiative and get to know this guy’s motives a little better. Well, that and I was genuinely curious.

“Car broke down,” Ah, so he does speak! Score one. “I thought that maybe I could search the store for something to help, but I came up with nothing.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” Kizzy said. “Do you have a phone? You might wanna let your family know about all of this. They’re probably worried-”

“ _ You think I don’t know that! _ ” James snapped. All of us stepped back a little. We weren’t sure what nerve Kizzy had hit, but by the look on James’ face, it was not a very good one.

He took a minute to seemingly calm down before saying anything else. “I know my family, and trust me, they ain’t worried. They never  _ were  _ worried.”

I didn’t really get what he was saying, and when I turned to the rest of the group they looked just as confused.

“Um, so, why exactly aren’t they worried? Families usually are, what makes yours so different-”

“I’m in a family of nine,” James cut Mateo off before he could finish. “My mom never really cared enough to remember all of our names, so I don’t think she’s the type to bother with a headcount. It’d be nice though, if she actually did. I’m the third oldest, and my two other older sibling usually help me with taking care of the younger ones. My parents never do anything for us, we have to do it all ourselves. Sometimes I’m glad that the younger ones don’t really talk to our parents, but other times I know it’s hard for them to grow up without a mother.”

“Um, so , not to impose any more than we have, but what about your dad? You don’t have to answer, but we probably should get to know each other a bit more considering we’re giving you a ride.” It was the perfect way to phrase the question. Kizzy was always the one who had a way with words, despite being god-awful in Writing.

“He-uh, he left. A while ago. Suppose he got bored of mom. They were gonna get a divorce filed, but I guess dad was too good for that.” He sounded mostly indifferent, but I could tell it hurt him to talk about. I wanted to say something, too, so I did.

“Sorry. I-I know it’s hard to have to deal with that every day. I mean, I don’t- I don’t know it  _ exactly,  _ but, you get it.”

I butchered all the words. I figured he wouldn’t find much comfort in that, but to my surprise, he smiled. A  _ real  _ smile, not a smirk or a mocking expression. It suited him.

“Thanks,” He said with that nice smile. “Now, we should probably get in the car, yeah? I know  _ I’m  _ not in any hurry, but you guys’ families will be wondering where you are.”

He had a point, we were getting sidetracked. We left the gas station and all got into the car.

 

* * *

 

 

We were about a mile down the road when I noticed something. This new guy- James, I kept forgetting- didn’t seem to find that much trouble in fitting in with the rest of us. It took him a while, of course, but eventually he was smiling and whooping and laughing like the rest of us. I suppose the adrenaline of racing in a car might’ve been getting to him, but still. It was nice to have a fifth person in our group square. That and I liked the way he looked when he was animatedly describing something.

“Uh, hate to interrupt the fun, but we might need to stop soon. We’re runnin’ a little low on gas, and I’m getting hungry,” Mateo informed us.

“Man, way to ruin the moment,” Carter teased.

“Oh what _ ever.  _ You know you’re hungry too.”

“Okay, okay, we get it,” Kizzy interrupted. “You’re both whiny, hungry boys. Now can you  _ drive _ ?”

That shut the boys up. I noticed that James seemed quieter than a few minutes earlier. He was having the time of his life from what I could tell, so for him to be quiet was strange. Maybe he didn’t want to intrude on the banting.

“Are you guys always like this?” I stood corrected. I guess he did want to join the conversation.

“Pretty much, and sometimes Carter and Mat are even worse,” I said. It was true, after all. Those two were a force to be reckoned with.

“So am I right in assuming that you and Kizzy are the voices of reason around here?”

“You won’t hear the boys admitting it, but yes, we are,” Kizzy smugly replied.

James laughed at that. “You guys are funny.”

Kizzy and I giggled. We had never been called funny, mostly because Carter and Mat were too busy complaining about us ruining their fun. It was new, and incredibly endearing, almost.

“We’re almost there, you guys!” Mateo told us. He was being extra loud, too.

“You don’t need to shout, geez,” Kizzy complained. “A little louder and I’m gonna get a  _ bad  _ headache, and you  _ do not  _ mess with a sick Kizzy.”

I silently agreed with her; I knew firsthand what a “sick Kizzy” was like, and I also knew that you  _ never  _ messed with her.

“We’ll get you some medicine when we get there, ‘cause I don’t want to be hearin’ you complaining all the way back home,” Carter broke in.

We all laughed again and continued talking on the way to the corner store. When we got there, James pointed out a few things that he needed at home, and we paid for all of his stuff  _ and  _ ours. We wanted to be nice to him, after all, we trusted him and wanted to see him again. Maybe we could invite him over one day. I’d like that, and I’m sure that Carter, Mat, and Kizzy would agree. While we were leaving, however, Kizzy’s headache spiked. I could tell by the way her brow furrowed and when she held her head in her hands with her teeth clenched when she thought none of us were looking. I’d always go by her house to make her feel better after a particularly bad headache, though, so I always look for the tell signs of a bad one. Carter and Mat’s loud voices were definitely  _ not  _ helping, so I made that perfectly clear. Kizzy would appreciate it later.

“Can you guys pipe down a bit? I think Kizzy’s headache is killing her, and your loud voices are not helping the situation.”

“Oh yeah,” Carter said.

“Whoops,” drawled Mat.

“Sorry Kizzy,” they both said at the same time.

Kizzy looked like she was about to say something in reply, but I stopped her. Whenever she gets headaches this bad, it isn’t very good for her to talk. She has a voice that tends to carry, and she can’t really control it. I figured she didn’t need the extra noise.

“Alright, alright. We can get back in the car, but only if you three decide to be considerate and shut up,  _ please,”  _ I practically begged. I had too at this point; the boys wouldn’t have gotten the point any other way.

“Uh, sorry, we-we’ll be quiet,” James faltered. I felt bad for him; I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, especially since he was new. It couldn’t be helped, though, since Kizzy looked as if she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

The boys all got in the car, leaving me to help Kizzy. I suppose they thought I was the most reasonable choice for the job because we were both really good friends. Or they just didn’t feel like doing anything, and wanted to leave  _ me  _ to do all the work. I feel like the latter was most likely. Maybe not for James, though.

I helped Kizzy into the car, with one of her arms around my neck and me practically dragging her across the pavement. She was a lot more out of it than I thought, and that worried me. Kizzy got headaches pretty often, but she was always conscious enough for them. I decided to keep an eye on her in the car. If she didn’t improve later, than we’d probably take her to a CVS.

I finally got Kizzy into the car and hopped in myself. It was a struggle, I’ll admit. She was definitely going to pay me back later.

“Everybody in?” Mat asked.

“Yeah, we’re all good,” I replied. “But I’m gonna keep an eye on Kizzy; she isn’t looking too great.”

“Alright,” Carter jumped in. “Let us know if she does anything… weird.”

I rolled my eyes, but I assured him that I would.

We drove for a bit, and that’s when I noticed. Something had seemed off for a while, but I hadn’t acted on it. Now, though, I saw that I should have.

 

Kizzy wasn’t moving.

**Author's Note:**

> im practically begging for tumblr followers at this point, lol
> 
> follow me here:   
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/happythedragon18


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